


If I Can't Have You

by TaylorSmith63



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feels Heavy, Jack misses pie, M/M, Oblivious Jack Zimmermann, What do you do when you have nonplatonic feelings for your best friend? eat pie, by pie I mean Bitty, everyone else can see it, idiots to lovers, post-grad kiss never happened, this story is going to be a long boi I can feel it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaylorSmith63/pseuds/TaylorSmith63
Summary: "Go really say goodbye," his father had said, a knowing look in his face that Jack was confused by. What did he know? Because whatever it was, Jack didn't. Jack had no idea. He didn't know what he was missing.Jack gave a weak smile, and in his head he saw two paths. In one he raced across the campus, gown flying behind him, but he didn’t know where he was running…or who he was running to.“I think I’m ready to go.”~How Jack finds his way back to Bitty, even if he was a little too stupid to realize he needed to at first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I know that there are several "what if Jack didn't realize his feelings for Bitty until after graduation" fics out there. But my heart is still heavy from the previous update and I love these dorks so dang much that I just had to write my own. When Jack said he didn't realize he wanted to be with Bitty until the last minute.....my fluff angst brain RAN WITH IT. Here's to this story and those dummies finding their way back to each other without even realizing they had lost something. 
> 
> ~Vaguely inspired by "If I Can't Have You" by Shawn Mendes because it gave me major Zimbits feels and inspired the fic kinda~

Jack shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that were building up inside. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something- something important. Something that mattered. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

Once he took off this graduation gown and headed to Providence, that was it. His real-life was going to begin. He was going to be an NHL player. And somehow, that was as terrifying as it was comforting. Everything he had worked for was finally, after years of struggle, coming true. So why did it feel like such a sad ending? 

It felt like something was missing. He had already said his goodbyes, had skated his last lap around Faber. He had said a final goodbye to the Haus he called home for so many years and the teammates who became friends who became family. 

And it felt…empty. 

His father’s words went in one ear and out the other, and he caught a phrase here and there as he walked wordlessly through the quad. 

“Go really say goodbye,” his father had said, a knowing look in his face that Jack was confused by. What did he know? Because whatever it was, Jack didn't. Jack had no idea. He didn't know what he was missing in so many ways. 

Jack gave a weak smile, and in his head he saw two paths. In one he raced across the campus, gown flying behind him, but he didn’t know where he was running…or who he was running to.

“I think I’m ready,” Jack said, shoving that future out of his head and pushing forward. He was just scared, he decided, scared of the inevitable future. Of living alone, without the often ridiculous antics of the Haus to keep him company. Living without magic pies and Shitty’s social justice rants and tub juice and the Mario Kart tournaments that Ransom and Holster would organize. He would wake up, eat breakfast alone, and head off to the rink with teammates he barely knows. This would never be his life again. 

At dinner that night, he was only half-listening, only half there, maybe only half a person if he was being totally honest with himself. Something felt wrong. Something was missing. As he bit into the too dry chicken and listening to his mother and George discuss some of the other players on the Falconers, he slipped his phone out of his pocket to check his phone. 

The group chat, to no surprise, was blowing up. Lardo was dealing with the state that dinner with the Knight’s had left Shitty in, a sense of dread and alcohol and nudity and utter regret over his haircut. Ransom and Holster were well on their way to Buffalo already, selfies of funny faces and snacks and occasionally videos of them going ham to show tunes, absolutely losing themselves in their out of tune renditions of Waitress. He didn’t have to hear their voices through his phone speakers to know what they were doing. Bitty was surprisingly silent, and that caused an ache in Jack’s chest that he didn’t know what to do with. He knew that it was because Bitty was supposed to be on a plane halfway to Georgia by now, but it just felt...wrong. 

“Jack?” there was worry in his father’s eyes, had been since they had left the quad and sat down at dinner. His father knew him better than he knew himself some days, knowing the path that he was going to follow because he had spent his life chasing it as well. 

“Sorry, just checking the group chat,” he explained away, tucking his phone back in his pocket and ignoring the part of his brain that kept insisting take a peek at it every time he felt it vibrate in case it was Bitty. 

“It’s so nice that you’re close with your team,” Georgia smiled softly at him, “I hope you stay close even with you in Providence, that kind of support network would be really helpful.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” he said, half to reassure himself and half to answer her, trying to ease the tightness in his chest when he realized for not the first time that was going to be so separated from them. “I think I’ll try to get them tickets for the first game or something, and I’ll definitely try to make it back to Samwell for their home opener.” 

His phone vibrated in his pocket again. 

He didn’t look at it. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack bumbles about his new apartment, melancholy, unsure and lost in thought.   
And he just really misses pie, okay? 
> 
> Not okay. 
> 
> Not really.

Jack had never been attached to the kitchen before. He couldn’t figure out when the before became an after, when something had changed within him that made his immaculate kitchen feel empty. 

It wasn’t. It was nowhere near empty. The fridge was stocked with his staples (but no pie), his microwave and oven was state of the art (but no pie), his counters were wide and expansive and beautiful (but no pie.)

Before Bitty, no one used the kitchen in the Haus. It was to keep the beer cold and frozen pizza hot. It was have a wall of sriracha . Occasionally they would cave and buy a grocery store cake in the middle of the night, fueled by a desperate desire for chocolate and the odd nostalgia of eating a cake with your best friends. Ransom, in particular, loves that, said the best part being an adult was the ability to get any food whenever you want. It would live on the counter until a hungry hockey team would finish it. 

After Bitty became a fixture in the kitchen, there was no going back. Jack could barely imagine it without him. 

But there was no room for midnight cake in the NHL. No frozen pizza. 

And perhaps, most painfully, no pies. Even if Jack favored a more healthy diet, the absence of pies caused a pit to form in his stomach. Bitter and empty. 

Jack moved on, looking at his kitchen that was full of food but empty of something else. His living room felt the same kind of empty though, despite the comfy chairs Shitty had helped him pick out and the art Lardo had found for him. But he couldn’t help compare it the living room at the Haus. There was no Mario Kart. His couch was absent of stains with unknown origins (he really liked that, to be honest. It was a good couch. But without so many stories attached to it, it didn't feel right.) There was no Shitty ranting or Chowder napping, no Ransom and Holster sitting so close together it was considering cuddling in some definitions of the word. 

His heart felt empty. Painfully so. He didn’t know what do to fix it. He didn’t know if he could. 

So he focused his energy on unpacking. If he let himself sit still in this empty space, it felt like inviting his anxiety to have a field day in his brain. He couldn’t leave that open. 

The bookshelves lining the walls were asking to be filled with Jack’s books. Old books. New books. History books. Hockey book. Jack even had a book or two about the history of hockey. Bitty had once roasted him for it. He took one look at his book collection and laughed out a noise that sounded suspiciously like hockey robot. When Jack had cocked an eyebrow at him, practically begging him to carry on- maybe hoping to intimate him or be sexy or something, he doesn’t really know. He doesn’t want to think about it too hard. 

He looked around the little apartment, at the high ceilings and comfy furniture. At the emptiness. He could hear cars puttering down the street, wafting voices from his next-door neighbors. It was a kind of quiet that he could have to get used to. It wasn’t chaotic. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t filled to the brim with best friends and teammates and pie. 

It wasn’t home. Not yet. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack: 
> 
> Hey, I miss you. 
> 
> How’s home?

_ **Jack: ** _

_ Hey, I miss you.  _

_ How’s home? _

~ 

Jack stared down at the message on his screen, brows furrowed above ocean blue eyes. His fingers had typed out the message before he could stop them, having skimmed across the screen of his phone and typed it out before he realized he was even doing it. Was it weird? Sure, they had texted in the group chat. He had sent a couple of pictures of his new place, a couple of shots from the ice this morning. Shitty had responded in true him fashion, calling him a “fuckin’ beaut of a man” and “six-plus feet of French-Canadian wonder hero” when he sent a single selfie. Bitty was working at a summer camp, having sent a picture just earlier of him in true counselor fashion, ready to take on his rambunctious group of 6th graders. He had a clipboard in hand and smile plastered on his face. It wasn’t his usual, unrestrained smile that Jack had come to not only know but also enjoy. It didn’t overtake his face, stopping just at the edges of it. The wild one was reserved for a new pie, for a party at the Haus where he got to take over the playlist, for a goal or a win...something for Jack himself, like when he told Bitty about the football team that one night. 

But Jack hadn’t been able to find any reason to text Bitty. It’s not that he was trying. Well, maybe a little bit. He snapped a picture of a small bakery on the way to the rink, had the message typed out before he deleted it. He heard halo playing when he went to get lunch, and the song struck a place in his heart that he wasn’t aware of and he almost overfilled with fondness and melancholy, longing for something so unknown he couldn’t even start to form the words to describe it. 

But none of it seemed right. 

** _Bitty: _ **

_ It’s good!  _

_ These kiddos are tiring me out.  _

_ It’s like taking care of 10 drunk Nursey’s. _

It was late when Bitty finally replied, the moon high above and shining palely through his window. Jack was already in his bed, curled up in warm covers while his AC blasted cold air through the apartment. The cold made him feel at home. All the places that his heart felt most whole- ice rinks, Canada, the frozen pond behind his house that he grew up skating on or the one at Samwell, even the snowball fights that broke out in front of the Haus during the first snowfall of the years- they were all icy. He was used to the cold. He loved it. 

But not even his heavy comforter, weighing him down just the right amount and catching at his feet where he had stuck them out, was making him feel whole again. 

But then his phone vibrated again, and there was Bitty’s face in his messages. 

Jack grinned at the message. The dim light of his phone lit up the smile on his face. His did reach all the way across. It almost never did.

_ **Jack** _

_ Good luck _

_ Don’t tell the team that or you’ll end up on Nursey Patrol every kegster  _

~

_ **Bitty: ** _

_ Oh my god you’re right.  _

_ I can’t have that.  _

_ I love him but I’m gonna need a break from kids who’s thought process before doing something can basically be described as “YEET”  _

_ **Jack: ** _

_ What is yeet.  _

_ **Bitty; ** _

_ No.  _

_ Anyway.  _

_ How’s Providence?  _

_ **Jack: ** _

_ Good! _

_ Just working on getting settled into the new place.  _

_ It’s really nice.  _

_ The kitchen is great, you should come up here sometime.  _

_ To bake, I mean. And hang out.  _

**_Jack_: **

_ I miss your pies  _

_ **Bitty: ** _

_ Send me pics of it!  _

_ What all you got there? Mixer? Pie tins? Cookie sheets?  _

_ Jack Laurent Zimmerman, do you even have a wooden spoon?  _

_ **Jack: ** _

_ I can buy you anything you need.  _

_ NHL salary and all.  _

_ **Bitty: ** _

_You must really miss my pies._

_ **Jack:** _

_ You have no idea.  _

He would buy Bitty a thousand wooden spoons if he came and baked, Jack thought to himself. He would shop for hours to find the perfect one. He would find the best pie tins, Bitty's favorite oven mitts, everything he needed to let Bitty fill his kitchen. 

J ack padded through the house in his bare feet. The light in the kitchen hurt his eyes when he turned it on, but just the thought of Bity in it made him feel warmer inside. He took the pictures quickly, shut off the light, and sent the pictures off. 

He fell asleep, picturing Bitty singing around his kitchen, hips swaying to a beat of his own making. An apron on and spoon in his hand. Jack with his hands cradling his head, watching in awe as the boy worked his own unique magic. 

Maybe that idea felt a little more like home.    
  



	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More melancholic inner monologue, I promise excitement in the next chapter.

The summer continued like that, a thread of text messages formed between Jack and Bitty that made the emptiness of Jack’s apartment feel less so. By the time Bitty was packing up his room in Georgia to move back into the Haus, he was accompanying Jack on a trip to the cooking store to furnish his kitchen. 

Jack threw in a couple of extra wooden spoons, just so Bitty would know how much he was wanted there. 

Bitty had spent a full 15 minutes saying that Jack didn’t need to buy the most expensive stand mixer, really, it’s not like he would use it enough to justify the purchase. No matter how much Jack insisted that it was a worthwhile investment, Bitty wouldn’t back down. Bitty blushed when Jack finally explained that he wanted to Bitty to feel at home in his apartment, face red in the fading Georgia light he was showered in. 

Something about it made the strings in Jack’s heart twinge, like they were trying to play a chord but couldn’t hit it right. 

When they finally got off the phone that night, as Bitty yawned and Jack urged him to get some rest before his early flight, Jack could finally feel things slotting back into place. 

Because hockey was starting up again, he tried to tell himself. But there was something about knowing that Bitty was going to be closer. It even brought a small, sleepy smile to his face, pushed into the pillow as if he could hide it from even himself, when he realized that he would be joining him Providence only a couple of days later. Bitty had to get settled at Samwell. He had to pick up his books and finalize his schedule. There were bribe pies to be made. Tadpoles to welcome.

But then he would be all Jack’s. 

Well, not  _ all  _ Jack’s, he supposed, almost scolding himself at the word choice. Just two friends, hanging out after a summer apart. After all, they had spent a year living right across the hall from each other. The 40 minutes between Samwell and Providence seemed like an eternity in comparison to that. 

And his new teammates. Jack had gotten used to them quickly, but they weren’t Samwell. Tater seemed nice enough, never letting his language barrier get in the way of a good friendship. He had never met a person, potato or pie that he didn’t like. There was an understanding between them, the weight of expectations having formed them both into the men they became. 

There were some veterans, men who Jack could only hope to learn from in his time he got to skate with them. Marty, Thirdy and Guy were a trio of sorts, years together forging a bond that was a foundation for their team. Quick wit and easy jokes providing a good base for unconditional support and teamwork. The three had a brunch tradition that had carried on through the ages, and even had rotating barbeque and dinner party duties for team gathering throughout the season. 

Snowy, who protected the goal like it was his firstborn child and his teammates like they were his family. Off the ice, though, he was a disaster. He had a knack for running into poles while texting and had once managed a shut-out and then managed to trip over his own two feet once his skates were off and he was giving interviews, causing a broken finger that he refused to treat. It was crooked now. 

And Poots. Poots was a unique character in and of himself. Although his brain sometimes worked a little slower than his mouth, he had a heart of gold. He was always there to lend a helping hand, whether it was helping a teammate move or helping clean the locker room after a particularly grueling practice. 

And yeah. Jack was finally starting to fit in. Tater had dubbed him “zimmboni.” Guy and the other vets had invited him out to their usual bar. He had kept Snowy company while he had to get stitches in his hand after a mishap on the ice. He even had asked Poots for video game advice once. 

But somehow, even if Jack was finally starting to settle into his life in Providence, it still felt like something was missing. He could see the future laid out in front of him. Forming a bond with these players, forged with the fire of an NHL season. Maybe he would work his way up to captain. Play in the post-season. Pour every ounce of fight and grit he had into his career. 

But what was missing?

When he saw Bitty’s face pop up in his messages, he almost knew. 

_ Almost.  _


End file.
